Self-evident truths

It was 1pm and we were scheduled for a 1:20 tour of Independence Hall. We had just gotten off the bus and were meandering a couple blocks down a Philadelphia street before getting in line. The temperature and humidity were conducive to meandering – I could feel the sweat gathering on my back while a soft breeze cooled my arms and legs a bit.

Suddenly, a request. “Excuse me, sorry to bother you. Would you help me find a soup kitchen?”

We stopped and I pivoted my head toward the speaker. I took him to be a white man, maybe in his early 30s. His hair was brown and curly and fell just above his shoulders. He wore a baseball cap, a white t-shirt, and cargo shorts, carrying a black backpack.

“You’re looking for a soup kitchen?” I asked.

“Yes, can you help me?”

“I’m not from around here, so I don’t really know where everything is.”

“I already went to the police station and they didn’t do anything for me. They just told me to wait, but I kept waiting and waiting.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know either.I have a few dollars I can give you.”

“Instead of giving me money, would you help me get on the bus back to my mom’s house?”

“Like I said, I’m not from around here. I’m not sure how to do that.”

“It’s just over on the next block, if you can pay for me, it’s like $15.”

A pause as I thought about what to say. I didn’t want to be unkind, but I also didn’t know exactly what helping him would entail. Was the bus stop really on the next block? Would it cost more than he was representing?

“I’ve got this 5 I can give you, but that’s all I can do right now.”

“Please, can’t you help me get on this bus?”

“I’m sorry.”

We turned and continued our walk toward Independence Hall. I saw out of the corner of my eye that the man had turned to sit down on a nearby brick barrier lining the sidewalk.

When we arrived at our destination, I asked a ranger where we were to line up. She directed me through a security screening line, and then into another line to wait for our tour to begin. We stood in the courtyard behind Independence Hall. Next to us was Congress Hall, where the US House of Representatives and Senate met from 1790 to 1800, when the US government was centered here. About 10 minutes later, a second ranger directed us into the hall where the Continental Congress met to debate and approve the Declaration of Independence in 1776, where the Constitutional Convention convened a decade or so later to argue over and enact the US Constitution. She regaled us with stories of the Founding Fathers, their debates about the extent of our revolution, about the powers of the new US government. She acknowledged the horrid compromises they made in allowing the festering and flourishing of slavery in the context of our founding documents and growing culture. The tacit excuse was that these same documents set the stage for the eventual abolition of slavery, and so perhaps we shouldn’t judge them with our anachronistic eyes. Those documents, the story goes, have allowed us to grow into the freest, most wealthy society that humanity has ever known.

But I couldn’t help thinking back to our encounter with the man in the street outside. His story was that he had no money for food or transportation, or presumably for a place to stay. My assumption is that I might not be able to trust everything someone tells me after I have just met them, but that no one would beg for assistance in the street unless they felt they had no other choice. And so my belief is that we have failed this man. Of course, I failed to provide him with meaningful assistance, but my broader point is that we have failed him and so many others as a society.

I think there is something to be proud of in our founding documents, in the promise of a country built on the value that all humans are created equal, all with the rights to life, liberty, and the search for happiness. I think there is something to be proud of in our aspiration to be a nation that welcomes people from countries across the world and gives them access to those values and rights. But I think we also must admit that we fall woefully short of those values. I think we also must admit that there are other nations in the world that currently provide more quality, that do more to guarantee their people’s rights to life and liberty and the search for happiness. When we are in the top third of countries globally in income inequality, when every country in Europe has lower poverty rates than we do, when we are in the top 10 globally in incarceration rates, when we have the worst healthcare outcomes of any high-income country, we have some things to learn to better live those values. And we can learn how to do better from countries who currently are doing just that.

People like me who criticize the US are not, as some like to caricature, trying to tear our country down. In reality, we know the promise of our founding documents and aspirations, as compromised as they have been throughout our history. We know the love we have for our families, our friends, our neighbors, all our people. And we want our nation to live out its espoused values, so that each of us, including the man I met on that Philadelphia street, truly have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

We finished our tour, and I was glad that we had experienced this part of our nation’s story. Like any unfinished story, it has its peaks and valleys. Like all settings, ours can be transformed. Like all characters, we have important choices to make. We can grow. We must grow, if we are to fulfill what promise exists within us. The story goes on.